From Highest Heaven, on Joyous Wing

From high­est Heav­en

on joy­ous wing

I come to you good news to bring;

Good news I bring

a plen­te­ous store

Whereof my song shall tell you more.

For un­to you

this hap­py morn

Of vir­gin meek and pure

is born

A ho­ly Child

a gen­tle boy

To be your bliss and chief­est joy.

It is the Christ

our God in­deed

The ve­ry help poor sin­ners need;

He will Him­self your Sav­ior be

From sin and sor­row set you free.

To you the bless­ed­ness He bears

Which God the Fa­ther’s love pre­pares

That in His heav­en­ly king­dom blest

You may with us for ev­er rest.

So mark ye well the signs I show

The swad­dling bands

the mang­er low;

There shall ye find the young Child laid

By whom the uni­verse was made.

Then let us all right mer­ry be

And with the shep­herds go and see

The gift which God to us hath giv­en

His own dear Son sent down from Heav­en.

Mark thou

my heart

look well mine eyes

What yon­der in the mang­er lies!

What Child is that so won­drous fair?

The lit­tle Je­sus li­eth there.

Welcome

thrice wel­come

no­ble Guest!

The sin­ner’s friend

the mourn­er’s rest;

For com­ing thus to grief and me

How can I thank Thee wor­thi­ly?

Ah! migh­ty Lord

who mad­est all

How couldst Thou make Thy­self so small

To lie up­on the coarse dry grass

The food of hum­ble ox and ass?

And were the world ten times as wide

With gold and jew­els beau­ti­fied

It would be far too small to be

A lit­tle cra­dle

Lord

for Thee.

Thy silk and vel­vet are coarse hay

Thy swad­dling bands the mean ar­ray

With which e’en Thou

a king so great

Art clad as with a robe of state.

And thus

per­haps

it pleas­eth Thee

To make this truth quite plain to me

That world­ly hon­or

wealth

and might

Are mean and worth­less in Thy sight.

Ah! Je­sus

lay Thy gen­tle head

And make Thy­self a clean

soft bed

Here in the cor­ner of my heart

That I and Thou may nev­er part.

So will I ev­er joy­ful be

And sing and dance right mer­ri­ly

As mo­thers sing

the cra­dle nigh

Their sweet­est

soft­est lul­la­by.

Now praise we God on His high throne

Who giv­eth us His on­ly Son!

Such the good news the an­gels bring

Such the new year of which they sing.